


Living in a Lunar Spell

by pretzel_logic



Series: oneiriad's creature AU bingo board [4]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Body Horror, Lots of insignificant OCs to move plot along, M/M, Very mild body horror, werewolf!Len, wherein lycanthropy is a virus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-01 18:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8633224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretzel_logic/pseuds/pretzel_logic
Summary: Len was making small talk with Doc Allen when the fight started.





	1. Chapter 1

Len was making small talk with Doc Allen, mostly on the care and treatment of burns. Allen was a good man and anyone with a basic understanding of human nature could tell he had not murdered his wife. Doc Allen was happy to be left alone and serve out his sentence like some kind of martyr but, he was willing to share his medical expertise if needed. Snart’s partner had pyromania and really, he could use all the advice on burn treatments he could get. 

That was when the fight broke out. Things had been tense in Iron Heights since CCPD had managed to crack down on the turf war going on between various criminal enterprises. Which unfortunately resulted in the rival gangs being stuck in Iron Heights and blaming each other. Everyone had been making their way back to their cells when the shit hit the fan.

Leonard did not really think, just reacted. Doc was no fighter and even unlucky bystanders could get shivved. So he focused on getting Allen to the questionable safety of a cell before looking out for himself. He turned away from once he was sure the older man was safe. Right in time for a literal spray of blood to splash across his face.

Len did not know who was sneaking up on him but he recognized Kevin from his card games. Not enough to kill a man for him and that throat slitting had been done with intent if Kevin’s face was anything to judge before he noticed Len watching.

Then again throat cutting was usually reserved for people that would bounce back from any other wound.

There was _werewolf_ blood on his face.

Peachy.

~*~

It isn’t often Mick’s Out while Snart is stuck on the Inside. When it does happen Snart’s usually only a few weeks to a month stuck in whatever prison they got thrown into that time. 

Not six goddamn months.

Too much could go wrong in Iron Heights without Mick to watch Snart’s back. Like a goddamn prison riot. Lisa’s contacts won’t tell her anything and that’s pretty damning in itself. Something had to happen if no one will tell Lisa her brother is okay.

Mick reaches out to the one prison guard that may tell him something. Carl is an ass but he’s a romantic ass that helps Mick and Len when they’re on opposite sides of the prison fence.

“Rory, I was wondering when you called. Heard about the riot?” Carl asked cheerfully like prison riots don’t often end with injured and dead. Nice to know assholes never change.

“How’s Snart?” Mick demanded. The sooner he got word Snart was okay the sooner he could drop this call.

“Not dead or injured,” Carl answered after a a tellingly long pause. Physical wellness was a far cry from fine.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Listen, Rory. Snart should really be-”

“Spill!”

“He’s stuck in the L-ward for observation,” Carl quickly said. He continued to speak, to explain the situation, but Mick was not listening.

Christ, the Lycanthropy ward. There was only two ways someone ended up in in the L-Ward. Werewolves going on the attack more often than not left nothing but bloody tatters and Carl said Snart was not injured. That meant someone had- someone had raped his partner. He was going to slow roast the mother fucker if they weren’t dead already.

“I want to see him,” Mick said, finally focusing back on the conversation.

“Rory, I’m not sure I can arrange that,” Carl warned.

Mick growled. “Let me put it this way Asshat, either get me in to see Snart or I’ll get him out,” he threatened in return.

Carl gave a weary sigh before agreeing to see what he could do. Mick gave him twenty-four hours. If Mick could not get in to see Snart legally than he’d have to enlist Scudder and Dillon. The two were show pony upstarts but the three of them could tweak Snart’s prison break plans for Iron Heights well enough to get the job done.

In the meanwhile, Mick needed to set a building or two on fire.

~*~

Mick’s not sure what strings Carl had to pull for him, did not really care. At least he was not currently wanted for anything. Might be in a couple months for the fires he set but not really caring. All he cared about was his partner in his med bed looking fine and irked. Lenny was a horrible patient only when he felt fine. That was good.

“Snart,” Mick managed as he got escorted in, fighting against his gut reaction of something more intimate.

“Mick?” Lenny asked in genuine confusion and surprise. Seemed like no one told Snart he was coming. “What are you doing here?”

“Heard you were in the L-ward. Why the hell else would I willingly walk into this place?” Mick explained as he took the stool next to Snart’s bed. The two of them shared a look that conveyed the only other reason Mick would enter a prison of his own free will was to break Len out. That wasn’t happening today but it might soon depending on what Len had to say.

Len sighed as he looked away from Mick, picking at some science magazine. “I’m testing positive but you know, not official until full moon,” Len said as his lips twisted into a grimace. He shrugged in a way that conveyed the matter was out of his hands.

Mick glared down at his hands that had curled into tight fists. He could feel his nails starting to dig painfully into his skin and it wasn’t enough. Flames licked at his insides, creating a hazey world of red fury. “And the fucker that did this to you?”

Frowning, Len finally made an effort to meet his gaze. “I didn’t get attacked Mick. Was in the splash zone while a Wolf inmate got his throat slit.”

Mick felt his anger douse a bit as he processed this revelation. “You got infected cause someone _bled_ on you?”

“You didn’t know?” Len asked in return before suddenly reaching for him, hands forcing Mick to uncurl his fists. “Mick, I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt at all aside for my new case of lycanthropy. They just won’t let me out of this damn bed cause of protocol in ‘wolf attacks’,“ Len was quick to reassure him once he figured out why Mick was so worked up.

Mick let his anger burn out in the face of Len truly being okay. Then he chuckled before letting himself go into full blown belly laughs. “Only you, Snart. Least your old man might finally leave you alone now. Wouldn’t want you to bleed on him,” Mick said as his laughter settled.

Len looked like a distinctly unimpressed cat as his eyes narrowed. “You’re going to be making Monty Python jokes from now on, aren’t you?”

“Don’t like it? What are you going to do? Gum me to death?” Mick asked, snickering until Len suddenly gave him a smirk.

“Wait for my time of the month and I might,” Len joked back and Mick relaxed.

Snart was going to be okay. At least until the full moon but they’d worry about that after it happened.


	2. First Moon

They say a werewolf is simply a wolf wearing a human skin. Len never expected that turn of phrase to be quite so literal.

Not that Leonard really knew anything about what the change was like before it happened. The staff of the L-Ward were particularly tight lipped about the change. Oh, they were happy to inform him what it was like to be a werewolf, all the positives and negatives. No hand-holding for what Leonard’s life was going to be like from his first change forward.

_The Doctor they sent in to give him Werewolf 101 seemed less medical doctor and more therapist. A quiet heavy-set man that somehow gave off welcoming vibes without doing anything to garner Len's trust. The doctor was the kind of man that sat families down to give them the bad news._

_“Hello, Mr. Snart, I'm Dr. Fenfield. I'm going to discuss with you the changes to your life that you can expect after your first change,” Fenfield said in greeting as he sat himself down on the rolling stool beside Len's bed. He paused in his clearly prepared speech to adjust his glasses and give Len a friendly smile. “Now, I'm sure you know a bit about werewolves due to the news and various media. Let me clear up some common misconceptions. No, you will not be able to shift at will, although partial changes are possible in cases of high stress. No, you will not turn into a bloodlust craving beast every full moon. Yes, it's very likely you’ll develop metal allergies, but they tend to be mild and only start to cause serious damage after long term exposure.”_

_“Or if someone decides to inject it into your bloodstream,” Len said, remembering the one time he had seen that. It was back when he was still forced to be part of his old man's crew for whatever Family was paying him that week. He did not even remember what the wolf had done, only that the Santini had wanted him to suffer without dying for it. The man had been fine at first after the injection, but then he had started to scream and writhe in agony, his blood burning him from within. The wolf had almost managed to scratch his own arm off before he passed out from the pain._

_Fenfield looked a little uncomfortable at the suggestion. Awkwardly, he coughed and readjusted his weight on the stool. “Yes. That's, uh, that’s a possibility. Moving on, there are some laws and restrictions that will apply to you once your first change happens. For example you will no longer be able to give blood -” Fenfield continued once he gathered himself and decided to press on._

Things had gone like for an hour every day that Fenfield worked. He’d go over various information all about what life was like for Werewolves without ever actually discussing what it was like to _be_ one. Fenfield obviously was not a wolf himself, but you think he would have more information for Len beyond ‘it’s different for everyone’. No shit, Sherlock! How were his senses going to change? His sense of balance? Things like that. The verbal run-around Fenfield kept giving him and the fact they would not let him ask another wolf made it more than a little obvious that they were intentionally keeping Len in the dark about the change.

Len felt like he was going into his first full moon as a wolf completely blind. He hated the feeling and did his best to focus his attention on the Shift room they shoved him into. The whole cell was heavily enforced, like an isolation room on steroids. The notable exceptions were the wide window near the top of the room’s outer wall, presumably to let in the moon, and an additional fixture to the sink to make it a water fountain just by pressing a bar.

_So simple a werewolf can use it._ Len could just hear the TV commercial in his head. 

He's no stranger to pain and Leonard fully expected his first change to be excruciating. That's how the media always portrayed it, actors screaming as their humanity is replaced by the wolf. Not like Fenfield had done anything to dissuade him from believing it. Len expected the transformation to be rough and brutal, expected to feel like the wolf was tearing itself through Len. Instead, as the moon rose, he was reminded of that too hot feeling from Mick’s bonfires. That sensation of being even a centimeter closer to the flames would cause him to burn. Like he was being cooked, but not at the right temperature. Only instead of sensation being limited to whatever side of his body was facing flames, it was all of him. He paced his cell restlessly, shivering as his sweat dried and chilled his skin even as he burned inside. The pain, if it could be called that, was almost comforting in its familiarity. Especially since he did not have to worry about Mick stepping into the flames should Len retreat to a more comfortable distance.

Of course, there was no comfortable distance to retreat to when it was his own body burning him from the inside out. Part of him was aware enough to get out of the drawstring pants and t-shirt the L-Ward attendants gave him so that he didn't ruin them when the change really started to happen.

Then the itching started. It was like the worst case of sunburn Leonard had ever had the misfortune to experience, but somehow even worse than that. He could not stop himself from scratching at his skin. But it was not enough. He dug his nails into his skin harder, scratched deeper. Finally, his nails seemed to catch on something and sweet relief follows. It's a brief respite – and then he realized that his skin had only stopped itching because his nails- no, his claws – had ripped off his skin. His stomach twisted and Len swallowed back bile. The fur covered skin beneath the removed skin only settled his stomach a little. When he could not get his hands to stop scratching and peeling, he closed his eyes.

_It's just like sunburn, just like sunburn,_ he reminded himself, trying to keep the creeping sense of hysteria at bay. 

With a shudder that was closer to a full bodied shake, the itching faded away. Len realized that last of his human skin was gone, the transformation complete.

As the hysteria faded, curiosity replaced it. He opened his eyes. His eyesight was different; it was easier to see in the dark, but colors were harder to make out. Everything looked a lot more green than red, like someone had turned down the red and upped the green light on a computer monitor screen. He took a deep calming breath through his nose and promptly sneezed. All the scents he barely noticed as human, and many more that he hadn't, were abruptly overwhelming with the sudden focus on them. Cautiously, he breathed through his mouth, breath streaming in and out past his lolling tongue and fangs. He could taste the smells of the room, but they did not shock him as badly as using his nose had. Mostly, the room tasted of Len's sweat with traces of his pain and fear coating whatever cleaning chemicals were used to keep the room sterile.

His ears… flicked, that was the only way to call it, as a noise nearby caught his attention. Another wolf was growling with rage right before a loud bang followed. A snarl and another bang. Someone else had finished changing and was trying to free themselves by force. Not that Len could blame them, a cage was a cage and wolves liked being confined even less than humans.

Len did not see the point in trying to accomplish the impossible and chose to pace instead. He stumbled with his first step, putting a hand out to help catch himself. His tail twitched uneasily as Len noticed the new appendage and significant changes to his lower body. As he stood up once more, Len realized he didn't feel like he was fully upright until he rested all his weight on the balls of his feet. His knees stayed partially bent and it felt like he was stretching when he tried to straighten them out. As he took a step, his upper body leaned forward and his tail rose to help him stay balance. A few more steps and Len was starting to get used to his new gait. He bet his hands would act as a useful weight support should he use them to try to run, not that he had the space to try it out in the cell.

Still, as he paced, Len noticed something odd. A sense of thataway tugging at his mind like a pulled string. Len glanced up in direction of the pull only to see the window, and through the window he saw the moon, full and bright. Huh, he had thought wolves having a moonsense was bullshit, but apparently not. As soon as Len started to think about having a sense of direction, his mind helpfully and immediately supplied which way was North. Well, that would be useful once he was out of Iron Heights and could have some actual fun as a wolf on the full moon.

Pacing did not seem to help the energy Len had as a wolf. He was starting to get irritated with how small his room was and started to eye the door contemplatively. Sure, he could not break it down, but at least it would give him something to do. There were Wolves and Humans beyond that door, maybe if he was lucky he could get to them and-

Len paused mid-step and tried to figure out what exactly he hoped to do by escaping. He did not feel particularly bloodthirsty, just like Fenfield had promised. Yet he wanted other Wolves and humans, needed them even. Why? Not like he liked or really knew anyone in the L-Ward.

He was missing something, something important and he needed it badly. Len was already going a little out his mind, his instincts screaming and demanding something he did not have the words to describe.

An inhuman whine escaped him as he started looking for a way out, slamming the door once before deciding the window would the easier, if harder to reach, escape route. Whatever he needed could not be found here. It was out there somewhere, with the humans and other werewolves that he could barely sense beyond his walls. Len just had to find it or make it.

The slot at the bottom of the enforced metal door opened and in slipped two trays with bundles of clothes on them. Something about the smell of them calmed the need and, curious, Len started to inspect them. The first bundle of clothes smelled of human sweat, pine wood smoke, lighter fluid, and herbs.

Mick. Mate.

Len snatched as the clothes and buried his face into the clothes, making them smell of Mick and him. It helped, settling that connection between him and Mick, but it wasn't enough. Whatever this need was, it required more than just a mate.

The second bundle of clothes smelled of vanilla perfume, leather, nail polish, and ice. Lisa without a doubt. It was easier to recognize her as pack now that Len was starting to realize that that was what he needed: a pack. Having two pack mates, Mate and Sister, helped calm Len. It wasn't still enough, but at the moment, it kept Len from scrabbling at the walls for freedom, for a way to make a full pack - by any means necessary.

They must be watching him somehow, or just waiting for a lack noise because two more trays with clothes are slid into the room. Len held his breath without really thinking about, wary of who else could possibly be volunteering to be part of his pack.

Mom died from drugs when he was a kid and his grandad, the only other family he knew, died only a few years later. Len didn't really have anyone else the way he had Mick and Lisa. If one of these bundles of clothes was Dad’s - Len could not contain the growl growing in his throat. Dad was not pack, could never be pack despite the blood connection between them. The part of Len that was wolf now refused to accept Lewis. His human part quietly agreed.

Lewis Snart deserved his fangs and claws, not his protection.

Perhaps the remaining bundle belonged to the staff of the L-Ward? Other werewolf inmates? No one had mentioned that Len needed a pack; maybe they assumed it was a given? Then why not ask Len for people to contact? Maybe they had talked to Mick. After all, his Mate was his primary contact for medical issues with Lisa, his second despite her being under aged. Len doubted they had pulled Mick aside just for the usual warning against sleeping with a werewolf. Still, who had Mick suggested?

The scents on the prison attire are faint, barely worn by whoever had them since last laundry day. There are faint traces of his own scent on them, but the strongest scent is grief. Doc Allen’s clothes, then. That made sense since Len got turned because he had been looking out for the older man. Len wasn't entirely sure how he felt about making the man part of his pack; he did not really know the lifer. Doc was not a bad guy, though, and anyone with brains willing to listen could tell that the man did not kill his wife. Len supposed that he could be pack, at least for now. Certainly better than Lewis Snart.

The last bundle was small, a bunch of kid’s clothes. Belonged to a boy if the excess Axe was anything to judge by. Under the thick coating of deodorant was the pungent smell of sweat. Len was starting to suspect that whoever this kid was had just decided his gym clothes were the best to fob off on Len. Something about the actual human scent reminded him of Doc. The man’s kid, maybe? Again, not exactly someone Len wanted to be pack, but Lisa and Mick weren't enough. He felt too precariously balanced with only two packmates.

Allen and his kid would do for now. Len supposed that's what mattered.

Without anything better to do, Len settled on making his pack mates’ clothes into a pillow to rest his head on. He wanted his pack with him, wanted to go running and hunting, but there was no way out of this cage. He wouldn't be free of this room for months until his serving time was up. Len let out a single howl, soon joined by the other wolves trapped away from their packs to create a mournful dirge.

The next few months were going to be hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Robininthelabryinth for beta-ingredients this chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from lyrics of Ozzy Osbourne's song 'Bark at the Moon'. The full verse is, "Howling in shadows  
> Living in a lunar spell  
> He finds his heaven  
> Spewing from the mouth of hell" which sounds so very coldwave to me.
> 
> I'm on tumblr as [pretzel-log1c](pretzel-log1c.tumblr.com) and [pretzel-writes](pretzel-writes.tumblr.com)
> 
> ETA: turned in comment moderation for reviewers that wish to leave private reviews (please specify so).


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